


Try Forever

by inkstrain (orphan_account)



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/inkstrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a little tiring, watching the entire world move on while Uruha stays still, waiting. Just waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. K A N A G A W A

**_1979._** He breathes it in. The scent of soap and old age in this bedroom. They stick to everything - the clothes he's wearing, his hair, even the skin that covers his complaining bones. Inhaling deeply, he tries to get used to it because maybe if the smell becomes _too_ familiar, he can forget that it's something he has come to intimately associate with death.

  


"Kouyou?"

It's all-rasp and scratch, the voice that draws his attention away from un-remembering ( _how he wishes that's a real word_ ), an old baritone that's ready to fade away. Looking up from his window seat as fingers cease their slow and patient tapping on his knees, he smiles as the figure on the bed shifts, but just barely. 

Because Akira is too old and weak to be the enigmatic man he once was, what with eighty-nine long years, seventy-nine of those spent smoking, under his belt.

"I'm here." 

He moves his chair closer to a withering body bundled in fraying blankets, the covers made comfortable by wear and tear. His hand finds an arm, wrinkled and veined and soft as he adds with a squeeze of reassurance. "You're awake, finally."

His friend's head turns to _almost_ look at him, blind but sharp-eared to compensate for the loss of sight. He receives a grin, the action making all the crinkly flesh around Akira's black, gray-filmed irises disappear for a minute. It's not exactly like when he was thirty, but it's close. And now that they're running out of time, more than enough.

"Sorry," Akira coughs the words out in a near garble, hacking his way through vowels and consonants. "It's getting harder and harder to stay awake." One sentence takes minutes to complete, and it causes his grin to dissolve into a grimace. "I'm just _so_ tired, Kouyou."

He has to swallow hard to be able to say something back, his hand moving from an arm to finger at powder white hair. He brushes the thinning strands on Akira's forehead away, smile breaking in all the ways he never thought possible. 

"Sleep some more then, Aki." He replies, palms hovering over eyes that have ceased to see, voice surprisingly steady. "I'll be right here." 

But Akira shakes his head, attempting to sit up but in vain, and it forces him on his feet so he can help the man out. And all the while as pillows are propped up behind him, Akira's saying in between heaves: "Not until I've convinced you to believe in reincarnation."

They both get settled and he huffs at Akira's words as he sits back down. Resting his elbows on the edge of the bed with his tapping fingers splayed on the sheets, he leans forward to place the side of his face on Akira's abdomen. "You already know whatever you say isn't going to change my mind, _bonkura_."

Gnarled fingers find his blonde tresses, combing through his hair, an attempt at a playful ruffle. "But Kouyou," Akira's whisper is a bit sad but teasing, and maybe tinged with just the right amount of hope. "You have to believe I'll come back to find you."

He turns slightly and buries his face on the blankets covering his best friend, words catching in his throat. "Doesn't matter," He says, grasping the hands on his hair tightly, a physical effort to keep his friend with him just a little bit longer. "I might still be breathing after you die, but it doesn’t mean I'm alive."

There's no answer from Akira though, because he has fallen asleep again. Only this time, he stays that way for weeks, calling out names, the clearest one of them all Taka's.

It's the last thing he says before he breathes his final breath. 

Early the next day and after the funeral, Kouyou packs a few of his clothes and some picture frames. He visits Taka's grave. And the field he and Akira used to play soccer in. The playground where they all first met. By nightfall, his final stop is the station where he takes the last train out of Kanagawa. 

  


He doesn’t look back and he won't, not for a very long time.


	2. S I D E W A L K

**_198-something._** Kouyou and pavements are good friends. That's along with alcohol. But when he can't take any more than he has already consumed with liquor forcing him to empty his stomach's contents, it's always just spittled asphalt and himself left, looking up through half-lidded eyes and watching the stars.

Sometimes Akira is there with Takanori by his side, and he talks to them. Tells them things he has never said out of embarrassment, just because they're men. He regrets not saying anything when he had a chance and tries his hardest now. But with more than just six feet of loamy earth separating him from his friends, he knows they don't hear him at all.

He still speaks anyway, just in case. 

  


"I miss you." The words are lost to the evening, spoken so softly that it shouldn’t count as speaking. Frowning at the pinpricks in the distance that do nothing but twinkle prettily back at him, he adds as an afterthought: "I also just want to die."

And for a moment nothing breathes.

The wind picks up after a while. Blows wisps of hair on his face and a stray leaf on his mouth that he has to violently spit out. An amused chuckle somewhere above his head cuts through the stillness, and he smiles. It's a bit crooked and marred, but he blames time for that. 

Everyone else does, so why shouldn't he do the same?

  


"Me too, Kouyou." Yutaka tells him, his head suddenly blocking the sky as he squats down and reaches for Kouyou's cheek, fingers unchanged by the long years that they've had to endure. Sometimes together, often apart - not that it matters really, since they can always make up for lost time. Eternity has its moments. "I can't wait to stop breathing."

Kouyou lifts an unsteady hand to grasp at Yutaka's, closing his eyes with a ragged inhale of chilly night air. His lips morph into a smirk. "Poetically speaking we're already dead." He whisper-slurs, making Yutaka laugh aloud. It's one of those rare things that he hasn't gotten tired of, and he treasures the sound. 

Tucks it away in his pocket to bring out later, when they have to part ways again and he is left alone, with nothing and no one but photographs and an echo of _I'll come back to find you_ as company.

  


"How did you find me?" Kouyou asks after Yutaka has settled beside him, their shoulders and arms touching. And they must look more than just a little bizarre, two young-looking men stargazing on the sidewalk talking about death.

Not that they're going to die soon, or at all.

A dimple appears on a plump cheek, Yutaka's face lighting up almost instantly at the question. "Like I always do of course." He replies, before bringing a hand up briefly to gesture somewhere behind them.

Kouyou has to lift his head slightly to see, and when his eyes finally make out what it is that clued Yutaka in to his whereabouts, he groans aloud and covers his face with his arms, falling back on the ground with a thud.

"So I didn't even make it _that_ far?" He asks, words muffled by his palms as a very obvious giggle beside him is suppressed although unsuccessfully, like Yutaka even tried really hard.

A few tugs later and a cheek finds his, making it seem like a picture of them is in the middle of being taken. "Nope. You left our table mid-drink, walked out of the izakaya, took about seven and a half steps away from the door, and fell on your face."

He groans again, louder this time, feeling his cheeks burn. "And you just watched?"

When he glances at his long time friend, he finds that evil grin Yutaka reserves just for him delivered full force. "Doesn't really get old even after three hundred and sixty seven years."

Kouyou elbows him on the side, snorting as he does so. "Three hundred and sixty eight." He corrects with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "Your memory's as terrible as ever."

He gets a snort back in response. "Pretty much like your alcohol tolerance then."

And they laugh at that, and eventually Yutaka has to half-carry and half-drag Kouyou back to a nondescript apartment they've been renting for the last few months, and it's still not okay that they're alive...

But maybe it sort of is, because he isn't as alone as he thinks he is. 

  


"Thanks." Kouyou calls out, covers tucked under his chin and a memory of a kiss branded on his temple. Yutaka looks back from the bedroom doorway and gives him a smile, and that's the last thing he sees before the lights are turned off. 

He tucks that in his pocket too, even though his boxers don't have one. "Anytime. Good night."


	3. M I E

**_1986._** When Kouyou wakes up at a little half past eleven, the new house is terribly quiet without Yutaka chattering away and laughing endlessly about every little thing. It has been almost a week - nothing but the sound of the ocean far away and his own breathing - and it's difficult not to get stuck inside his own head. 

It's too easy to get lost in it, what with all the beautiful things he has hidden there over the years.

  


_"Oi Shima!" A little boy shouts, hitting the brakes on his bike and screeching to a stop in front of Kouyou's house just as he's turning the knob to get in, tired beyond all belief after a grueling shift at work._

_Turning around to spot the seven-year-old grinning at him from the other side of the low gate, he glares slightly. "It's Takashima." He says flatly, but the boy only shrugs._

_"I like Shima better."_

_A second bike arrives with another resounding screech, and an older-looking boy with dark skin reaches out to knock the younger one upside the head. "Taka! Don't be rude!" He scolds, before turning to Kouyou with a wave and a slight bow of his head._

_"Hi Takashima-san!"_

_Kouyou smirks, watching Takanori rub the back of his head with a pout, before lifting a hand and waving back at the second boy, eight-year-old Suzuki, whose grin is so wide that all his teeth are showing._

_"Hello Akira. And fine, you too Taka."_

  


Kouyou flips through a clear book marked _BREAKFAST_ in Yutaka's handwriting, trying to decide what to eat, knowing he should be looking at the one labeled _LUNCH_ due to the time but ultimately not caring. He doubles back to the letter F when he spots a page with only a few lines of text, nodding in approval as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

Not too many ingredients written on this one, so french toast it is. It can't be that hard to cook for a change right?

  


_"Do you think people live more than just once Takashima-san?" Akira asks out of the blue, looking up at Kouyou from his position behind the boy and Takanori. He's trying to push both their swings at the same time with a hand each, and the result is an awkward half-swing, half-wiggle. It's a little dangerous, but the entire thing makes Takanori laugh so he continues anyway._

_He gives the impromptu question a thought, humming to let Akira know he's thinking. Eventually and with nothing but the creak of the swings, he sighs and shakes his head._

_"No. I think there isn't a life after the one we already have."_

_Takanori's hand shoots up in the air. "I don't believe it too! Dad says people only have one chance at life so that we'll live it to the fullestest!" He declares with a bright grin, one tooth missing from the lower row of his smile._

_Laughing a little, Kouyou ruffles the younger boy's hair. "It's fullest, not fullestest." He corrects, just as Akira jumps down from his swing, walking away with an angry stomp to his foosteps. "Eh, Akira where you going?"_

_The tears catch Kouyou off-guard and even Takanori gasps as he leaves his own seat, approaching Akira who has stopped in the middle of the playground to face them._

_"What's wrong Ue-chan?" The younger one asks, lower lip trembling like he's on the verge of tears himself. He clings to the other boy's arm as Akira sniffs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and his voice is shattered glass when he answers._

_"Then how am I ever going to see you and Taka again?"_

  


It's a disaster of course. The first batch is a soggy mess because of too much egg and too little bread, and the second is all burnt on one side. The kitchen is foggy with smoke and his eyes are teary with it, and Kouyou's opening a window when the doorbell rings. Grabbing a half-burnt french toast straight from the pan on the way, he hurries to the front door. 

"Hi Takashima-san."

It's the dark eyes that he sees first, and he can't quite decide if they're black or brown. Kouyou blinks several times, pausing from nibbling at his breakfast, and looks beyond his property, past the gates, but sees no one else. So he looks back down at his little guest and asks, if a little awkwardly:

"Uh... are you lost?" 

The smiling boy standing barefoot on his porch, wearing a rocket ship printed pajama top with a pair of frayed cargo pants, tilts his head to one side questioningly.

"Who's _lost?_ Because my name's Yuu." 

  


_He has two wailing boys sitting on his lap in his living room, and Kouyou isn't sure whether to laugh hysterically or start crying with them. Their mothers have left him with both Akira and Takanori, and he's a little unsure how to handle the situation._

_"But you can't leave!" Takanori exclaims, tears and snot dripping from his chin down to his spaghetti sauce-stained shirt. "You can't go Shima!"_

_Akira's embrace around his neck tightens, and he has to gasp for air, a little surprised by the fierceness of the hug. "What if we never see you again?" Kouyou swallows hard, the lie he's about to say twisting the veins pumping blood into his heart._

_"Of course we're still going to see each other!" He assures them. Takanori looks up, his wide eyes red-rimmed and puffy. "Do you promise?"_

_Liar, liar, liar._

_Kouyou smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes and - he thinks - Akira notices it's different from his other ones because the older boy frowns._

_"I promise."_

_But they don't see him again. Not on Akira's first soccer game or Taka's third time playing the school play's lead (he saw the other two performances). He becomes a memory, as he should be._

_Ten-eleven.  
_

_Twelve-thirteen.  
_

_Fourteen-fifteen.  
_

_Sixteen-seventeen.  
_

_Eighteen-nineteen._

_At least not until years later when they become Reita and Ruki and lovers, the boys now teenagers spotting a Takashima Kouyou look-alike across the street._

_But... why do they look_ exactly _alike?_

_It's Takanori who recovers from his shock first, pulling Akira into traffic to the screeching of tires and the blaring of horns, because the pedestrian had been red. Kouyou's entire world changed at that moment, the present standing in front of the past with wide eyes._

_"Holy fuck!" Akira exclaims between heaves of breath. "It_ is _you!"_

  


The little boy named Yuu accepts the plate of half-burnt french toast he serves with no complaints and just the slightest wrinkling of the nose, and Kouyou pours them both glasses of orange juice. Seated on the kitchen across from each other, Kouyou finally speaks up because Yuu hasn't said anything aside from _can I come in_ and _thank you._

"So... how did you know my name?" He asks curiously, imitating the boy by peeling away the burnt parts of his bread so he can eat the edible portions. Yuu doesn't look up, too busy scraping carcinogens from his food, as he replies with a shrug.

"Your friend Yukata-chan."

His mind draws a blank, and then - oh. _Oh._ "You mean Yu _taka_ right?" Kouyou asks with a small smile, and the boy finally meets his gaze again. With the light coming from the open window, Yuu's eyes appear brown. 

"Sorry, yes, Yutaka-chan." He smiles sheepishly and begins eating, licking butter grease from his fingers once in a while. "He told me to take care of you while he's gone."

Kouyou lifts a brow and chuckles weakly, both touched and pained that Yutaka did this, amongst other things. _Because for some reason it feels like he's replacing two other little boys even though he's really not._

Yuu pauses from a gulp of orange juice and looks at him again. "He also told me to tell you this, but I don't know what it means." He puts his glass down, folding his hands in an almost adult-like manner, looking into Kouyou's eyes as he speaks.

"He said it's important that I tell you he thinks Aki and Taka will understand."


	4. B L A N K E T S

**_1991._** Kouyou admits never knowing why his mother and father were the way they were back then. Worrying about every little thing where he's concerned and always wanting to know what he's doing or what he's done, and where he's going or where he's been. But listening to Mrs. Shiroyama on a late Friday afternoon in her kitchen, a plate brimming with manju between them with warm tea for her and a bottle of beer for him, and Kouyou thinks he understands his parents a little bit better now.

  


"... you know how Yuu is, always so expressive and quick to react," she says, picking up a manju and biting a portion of it before continuing after her small, half-hearted chews. "He hasn't been like that lately. Actually, he hasn't been much of anything at all." Mrs. Shiroyama sighs and takes a sip from her cup, glancing at Kouyou with a sad smile. "He comes home after school with bruises and a split lip and broken knuckles and goes straight to his room, does his homework, comes down for dinner, goes back upstairs, and then plays his guitar until he falls asleep."

Chin perched on his open hand with his other one's fingers tapping beats on the kitchen table, Kouyou listens with a frown, releasing a ragged exhale when she adds- "He won't talk to us no matter what approach we take - he doesn't even get angry at our questions. He just looks at us and takes it all in without saying anything back." With a sniff, she hastily wipes at her teary eyes. "It feels like he's treating us as strangers, you know?"

Kouyou reaches out and grasps at Mrs. Shiroyama's arm with the hand that was drumming on wood, eyes soft with understanding. "Any word from school? Has it been affecting his grades?"

Mrs. Shiroyama laughs at that, but it's all sorts of broken. "His grades are fine. Aside from his lack of reaction and the blood on his uniform nearly every other day, he's himself. Although," Her lips suddenly twist in amusement, and at her next words even Kouyou has to smirk-snort. "He hasn't been complaining about doing chores. That was really how I knew something was wrong in the first place."

They laugh at that together but only briefly, before Mrs. Shiroyama is sighing deeply and getting that morose expression she's been wearing for the last month and a half whenever her son's not around back on her face. "I'm just not sure what to do anymore, Kouyou."

The silence that hangs between them is syrup on still air, Kouyou tracing shapes on beer bottle condensation. "I'll talk to him." He finally says, drawing a smiley face with angry eyebrows on the tempered glass encasing his drink. When he looks up, Mrs. Shiroyama is crying again. "We'll find out what's wrong so we can help him, don't worry."

It's her who reaches out to him this time, grasping at his hand tightly, almost painfully, in gratitude. "Thank you." She whispers through a tearful smile, and he opens his mouth to tell her it's no problem, but at that instant, the sound of the front door opening and closing alerts them of Yuu's arrival from school. 

"I'm home." The boy mumbles, steps hard and heavy and already headed upstairs, and Kouyou has to grasp back at Mrs. Shiroyama's hand to keep her from falling apart. 

-

  


When he knocks on Yuu's door to the faint sound of strings being strummed, he gets a soft _I'm busy_ in reply, but like hell will Kouyou let that stop him. "Sorry but I don't care!" He announces, with a smile as he pushes the door open, balancing the plate of manju from downstairs and a fresh beer with a hand as he all but marches into the boy's bedroom uninvited. 

And Yuu's in the middle of his bed already dressed in home clothes with his acoustic guitar in his lap, wrapped in blankets almost as if he's hiding from the entire world.

"Kou-chan..." Yuu starts, looking ready to protest, but Kouyou cuts him off by seating himself on the bed after he has closed the door, placing the treats between them. He picks up a leaf-shaped snack and pushes it under the boy's nose. 

"Do you want a momiji manju?"

Yuu blinks, lips pursed into a frown, and it is only then that he's able to properly look at the twelve-year old. Sallow-colored fading bruise on the right cheek, a scrape on his chin, a spot of scabbing on his lower lip... Kouyou lets out a low whistle at the sight, like he's impressed.

"Hey, wow, that's some interesting injuries there." He says in an offhand manner, finishing the manju he had been offering with just two bites before picking up another and waving it in the air. "And are you sure you don't want one? They're pretty good."

He gets a roll of the eyes in response before Yuu is back to strumming some random tune with momiji manju as the lyrics, averting his eyes from Kouyou's sharp ones with a mumble as he's fumbling for the right chords. "How about the beer too, while we're at it..."

The elder perks up at that, grinning. "Sure, why not?" He answers, offering the still-full bottle to Yuu with a conspiratorial wink, making the other look at him again. "I'm not going to tell if you won't."

There's a moment of surprised silence before Yuu speaks. "Are you serious?" He asks with raised brows and bug eyes, and in the dim light of his bedroom, his eyes are a dark and lonely shade of black. Kouyou nods and pushes the bottle closer. "Yes. Go ahead - I promise not to tell."

The word promise makes Yuu snort and shake his head. "Yeah right." And trying to look offended, Kouyou pouts as he cradles his bottle, narrowing his eyes at the boy in front of him. "What's that supposed to mean? We can pinky swear on it if you're having doubts!"

"A pinky swear?" Yuu asks in disbelief, now laughing outright. "What are we, girls?"

It's Kouyou's turn to laugh, but it's a bit dark and sinister, his chuckle. "Do you even have any idea what people do in the old days when a pinky swear is broken?" He challenges with a smirk, and something in his tone gets Yuu's attention. 

The boy moves away to place his guitar against the wall, before re-seating himself across the older man with his arms crossed over his chest. "Okay then, what?"

Kouyou lifts a fisted hand in the air with only the appropriate finger upright for emphasis. "They cut off the pinky finger of the promise breaker." He whispers in a staged voice, grinning internally at Yuu's freaked out look. 

"Really?" He asks, and there's a wince on his face as if he's already imagining what it would feel like to have a part of him sliced and taken away. "Uh-huh. Really."

There's a moment of thoughtful silence before Yuu sighs, lifting a pinky and wrapping it around Kouyou's if a little hesitantly. "Well, everyone breaks promises so I'd just have to take your pinky finger then..." He trails off and is just about to pull his hand away, but finds he's unable to.

Kouyou is dead serious when he speaks, his gaze cutting through Yuu's in a way vacuum sucks in air. "I won't break mine." He declares in a low voice, and what happens next isn't something either of them is expecting. 

But the promise has already been sealed, their pinky fingers still entwined - _I'm not going to tell if you won't._

  


Kouyou doesn't even have time to react, the press of Yuu's wounded lips against his own rough and dry, the scab of the wound there digging against his mouth, and the feel of it stays there even after the boy has moved away. 

He doesn't know what to say, but Yuu fills in the stunned silence for him. 

"I... I've been thinking of doing that to another boy for a while," He says in a rush, and his expression looks so torn that it feels like Yuu's only a few seconds away from being ripped into shreds. There's genuine fear in his eyes that even his reddening cheeks can't hope to compete with in fever-brightness, and Kouyou wonders if Aki and Taka felt this way too growing up and realizing they were having feelings for each other. 

"I think... I think I'm gay, Kou-chan."


	5. T O K Y O

**_2002._** The live house he's in has become a single breathing thing, the entire crowd within it moving up and down and side to side in sync with the loud, pounding music courtesy of the band onstage. Kouyou can't manage enough breaths to stop himself from panting as he allows himself to get carried away, but who needs to breathe when everything is so beautiful like it is now, bathed in strobe lights and screams, gasping with so much life that it feels like they're all going to live decades from now and beyond?

He throws a hand in the air, arm brushing against Yutaka's raised one in the process. Grinning widely and turning to his friend, he can barely recognize the person standing beside him with eyes that are fiercer than usual, shadow and liner hiding how kind those irises really are just for tonight. Allowing their feet to leave the ground, they grasp hands as they start jumping, fingers loosely interlocked; joining everyone as the final song of the evening reaches its deafening crescendo. 

Kouyou closes his eyes as the wail of guitars and the pounding of the drums winds down, heart wriggling uncontrollably as the crowd screams and Yutaka pulls him in for an embrace, their shirts damp with sweat and little portions of forever. 

"Uruha..." 

Yutaka's arms are tight around him as he whispers the name he'd chosen for himself when they moved to the city, lips brushing tenderly against his cheek, and he basks in the warmth of flesh immortal as it encases his lanky frame. And like it has always been, he feels safe. _This_ is safe. Smiling, he holds Yutaka back and buries his crinkling nose against a damp neck.

"Hmm?"

A tongue darts out to lick at the drops of sweat running down his face, and he shudders involuntarily. Biting his lower lip, he presses himself closer to Yutaka, the other's next words stirring him to life and making heat pool somewhere a bit below his belly. 

"Won't you fuck me?"

And they barely make it to the men's room but when they do, they lock themselves in a stall and Yutaka pushes himself against the two fingers he puts into his mouth and slicks with saliva, moaning wantonly as his hips snap backwards with jeans so skinny that they don't pool on the ground but stop by his thighs instead - trapping his legs together and making his ass tighter than it usually is.

"Hnn... move, _move."_

Kouyou groans and begins fucking Yutaka relentlessly with his fingers, wondering and not for the first time how they ended up _like this._

  


Things had changed since Mie after the kiss he received from an innocent, twelve-year-old boy. He remembers the things it had put in his mind, flitting thoughts that hadn't been in his head before. He'd called Yutaka of course, and he recalls how the other had come home and the conversation they had that night: ending in him fucking his friend of years into the sheets, more than once, in every position Yutaka could think of begging for.

  


_"Have you ever been with a man?"_

_He can see how the question surprises Yutaka who is leaning against the headboard with a book, eyeglasses perched low on the bridge of his nose. He raises a brow and looks down at him where he's lying on his side, lower lip trapped between his teeth._

_"Why are you asking Kouyou?"_

_He shrugs, averting his eyes and drawing kanji on the blankets with a callused finger. "I'm... just curious." And Yutaka sounds amused as he shifts, discarding book and reading glasses on the bedside table before speaking._

_"Yes."_

_It's his turn to be surprised. "Really?"_

_Yutaka nods, sinking into the bed until he's lying on his back._

_"How does it feel?"_

_The other turns to face him with a shrug and a neutral expression. "It depends. If you're doing the fucking, or the one being fucked."_

_He presses closer. "Which one are you?" A small smile curls Yutaka's lips. "The second one."_

_"And... does it feel good?"_

_A shiver seems to run up the other's spine after the question, and something in him reacts at the sight, his cock twitching between his legs as he waits for an answer._

_"Very."_

_They both pause, and for the first time the air around them isn't comfortable. Instead, it's tense - and he realizes he's breathing hard a few seconds later as Yutaka extends an invitation that he knows they both can never go back from should he accept it._

_"Would you like to try?"_

_He leans forward and closes the gap between them with his lips, and the rest, like they always say, is history._

  


"Uruha, _Uruha_ yes _fuck yes!"_

He has his eyes closed, groaning and breathing hard as he digs his fingers on hips, keeping his friend in place and pushing his cock in and out of Yutaka's warm, wet channel from behind.

"Uuuh... fuck Kai, you're so tight _it feels so good_..." He murmurs, grunting with every inward thrust and calling Yutaka by the name the other had chosen for himself. Leaning forward, he drives himself deeper, making the other cry out when he starts rubbing against that special spot. 

Yutaka throws his head back. "Aa-ah... ah! _Oh yes_ , keep fucking me open!" Yutaka begs, moans higher pitched now. He's sobbing with pleasure, and it's the hottest thing he has ever heard. "Mmm... more! Harder Uruha, _harder!"_

He growls low in his throat, hips snapping forward viciously and driving both of them closer and closer to the end.

"Touch yourself." He whispers, his chest against the other's back now as he keeps a fast pace, and Yutaka does as he's told, the lewd sound of his hand moving up and down his cock as loud as their actual fucking. 

And he starts a keening noise. "I'm coming, _I'm gonna come fuck yes it's... uhn,_ harder please, I'm close, I'm so close I'm-"

An angled thrust sends both of them spiraling out of control, and he has to clamp a hand over Yutaka's mouth to keep him from screaming as his hips lose its rhythm, the other's ass milking him of everything he's got. 

  


"Wow. You were really loud." They look up as they exit the stall to find two guys by the sinks, one of them leaning against the porcelain while the other is seated by the counter, legs swinging as he grins and adds: "But it sounded like it was really good!"

Yutaka turns to him with a smirk, looking unbothered as he walks over to wash his hands and replies, rather cheekily. 

"It was."

But the rest of the conversation is drowned out when his eyes meet a pair of somewhat black maybe brown eyes, and his heart falls to his knees when he finds himself looking at a familiar face who is looking back at him in shock. 

"Kou... chan?"

Kouyou's stomach plummets when that gaze finds Yutaka, recognizing him as well no doubt, and he can't help but murmur a name he hadn't expected he would say again. 

"Yuu."


End file.
